There's a new room in My House. I saw it as I crested the ridge beyond which the house stands – on the path between the Tree and the entrance to the Plane of Departures.
I descended the grassy ridge and wound around to the front entrance. The entrance stairs have become gleaming marble, that's nice. In the hall I can see that the new room is directly overhead, on the level which you enter if you come in at the back, or private, door.
So I take the escalator upstairs and it debouches into this new room-which, I can now see, appears to have a grass floor and moss walls. The hugest 180 degree picture window - a curved lens of glass – looks out onto the world outside. The beautiful world full of wonders and joy, although much grief lies hidden, too.
To the right – the east – I can see back the way I came. The ridge, the veld, the small copse of trees, the river, the Tree. On my left I see rolling woodlands and a far horizon over which a bolt of lightning breaks. Straight ahead I'm looking down on a small country road which runs before My House. On the other side of the road there may - just may – lie a fearsome house, long abandoned by most Life, something you would find between the pages of Salem's Lot. I haven't even tried to go there, yet – in fact, I've only now become consciously aware of it. But from this distance, it poses no threat at all.
I am happy with the new addition to the house, give it my blessing, and turn to go back the way I came – save that I leave, now, by the back door and mostly glide my way back to the Tree, which is the entrance and exit point between this waking dream and the subconscious dream.
And all the way back, I'm remembering If therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light."